


Thursday Afternoon

by sonictrowel



Series: Long Night in the Blue House [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 03:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9801650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonictrowel/pseuds/sonictrowel
Summary: “You remember Thor?” he asked suddenly.River flicked over the page of her book and kicked her feet lazily in the air, not looking up.  “What, from Asgard?  Sweetie, you know he was an actor.”“Yes, well, much preferable to some other Norse god impersonators I’ve encountered.”“Mm,” River tilted her head, conceding that point.“We could take a mini-holiday from our holiday sometime and see how they’re getting on,” the Doctor mused, propping his guitar against the side table and flopping back on the bed beside his wife.River raised an eyebrow.  “You just want to get me in one of those helmets again.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> References Picnic at Asgard by Jenny T. Colgan from The Legends of River Song.

The Doctor wondered why he’d ever been so unfair to Thursday afternoons.  Of course, Thursday— and afternoons for that matter— were more like abstract concepts on Darillium.  But since the majority of its residents were human, the Earthweek was the planetary standard, despite what the sky might be doing.

In any case, reclined against the headboard and absently picking out the melody of _While My Guitar Gently Weeps_ (River’s favourite) on his unplugged SG, The Doctor thought that it had clearly always been his own fault for doing them all wrong.  He rather felt he should apologise to some sort of Thursday authority for the libel he’d been spreading.  Oh, right—

“You remember Thor?” he asked suddenly.

River flicked over the page of her book and kicked her feet lazily in the air, not looking up.  “What, from Asgard?  Sweetie, you know he was an actor.”

“Yes, well, much preferable to some other Norse god impersonators I’ve encountered.”

“Mm,” she tilted her head, conceding that point.

“We could take a mini-holiday from our holiday sometime and see how they’re getting on,” he mused, propping his guitar against the side table and flopping back on the bed beside his wife.

River raised an eyebrow.  “You just want to get me in one of those helmets again.”

“What— it was a good look for you, Brunhilde!”  The Doctor grinned.

“I thought you were just saying _this_ was a good look for me,” she replied innocently, still not looking up from her book.

He leaned over and peered under the sheet that was draped over her from lower back to upper thigh— just doing his due diligence, of course.  

“Well, yes, obviously this one’s the best.  But Asgard’s a family establishment.”

She lifted her head then and gave him a lingering, carefully neutral look, devoid of all the expected teasing humour.

“What?” the Doctor asked, his grin quickly disappearing.

She sighed, closing her book and turning over on her side to face him.  “This definitely falls under New Rule One, but I don’t want to spoil Starkers Thursday for you.”

He propped himself up on one elbow with his head in his hand, mirroring her position, and reached out to rub the other hand along her side.  “Ah, don’t worry about that.  Out with it now, dear.”

“That day, I— I wanted to ask you something.  Spent the whole time trying to work up to it, but in the end I couldn’t say it.”

“What?” he asked gently.

River looked down at the bed.  “I wanted to ask you if you wanted to… to try to…”  She sighed heavily again.  “To have children.”

The Doctor managed not to choke too audibly.  “You— you did?  Why didn’t you say?”

She smiled wistfully.  “You know how our lives were then.  How they always were.  And you were getting younger all the time.  I never knew we’d…”

He studied her face carefully.  “You never knew we’d have time together like this.”

River nodded.

“Well, so, do you still—?” 

“I don’t— I don’t think so.  Because it’s... time _enough,_ but then, of course, it’s really not.  Never could be.  And the one thing we can’t talk about is what comes after this.”

He flinched and looked down.

 _“That’s_ why I really didn’t want to tell you,” River said softly.  “We can only keep sane if we don’t think too far past now.  But you deserve to know.”

The Doctor pulled her into his arms, squeezing her tight against his chest, hiding his face while her warmth radiated into his bare skin. 

“I knew you’d be wonderful, just so you know,” she whispered.  “Even when _you_ were bouncing off the walls like a toddler.  It wasn’t because of you.  It was just, everything else.  It just wasn’t meant to be.”

He wished desperately that he could say something to comfort her.  

“Listen, after tonight,” she went on, and they could always hear in each other’s voices when it was the Big Tonight, “either we’ll talk about it again or… or we won’t.  But I cannot imagine anything that would make me happier than spending this time with you.  Just us.”

The Doctor pulled back to look into her eyes, smoothing his hand over her hair.

“Oh River, what a mess I’ve made of your life.  All the things you could’ve had.”

“Wouldn’t want a single one of them without you, my love,” she said with a little smile, bopping him lightly on the nose.

He smiled in spite of himself at his customary little affectionate gesture being turned on him.  “I’m a terribly selfish old man.”

“Mm,” she said, “I could always stand to hear more about that.  You know how I love it when you get all possessive.”

The Doctor studied his strong, brave, unfailingly self-sacrificing wife.  All he wanted was to spare her that.  To make it so that she never had to deflect and hide the damage.  But in this one instance, there was nothing else that he could say.  Tonight was what it was, and they had to live in every moment of it or let their precious time be squandered to dread and fear.  

And what he hoped for after that, it was too soon to let her know.  Not until he was sure.  Maybe not even until he’d succeeded.  Then, maybe, someday, they would have time enough.  But only tonight was certain.

“Well,” he said, affecting a light tone as well as he could manage, “I suppose I could—in honour of new Thursday tradition, of course— give you a demonstration.”  He lifted the edge of the sheet and flicked it up above them so that it drifted back down over them both.  

River looked radiant, cosy and flushed under the bright white fabric as she fixed him with that loving gaze, her mussed curls spilling over her face.  He snuggled into her lovely body heat as she threw a leg over his hip, and pressed his lips softly against hers.  She sighed out through her nose and he felt the tension begin to leave her frame as she opened her mouth under his.  

This uninterrupted linear time with her was more than he’d ever dared to dream of.  He hoped that for her it was good enough; that he was enough.

 


End file.
